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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266335">Attack of the Giant Mutant Killer Rabbits</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermin_Disciple/pseuds/Vermin_Disciple'>Vermin_Disciple</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dubious Science, Harm to Animals, Humor, M/M, Mad Science, Mild Gore, Movie: Night of the Lepus (1972), Multi, Post-Episode: s03e23 All Our Yesterdays, Romantic Comedy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:15:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermin_Disciple/pseuds/Vermin_Disciple</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock and McCoy have been acting strangely around each other ever since their return from the Sarpeidon ice age. Kirk jumps to some erroneous conclusions and tries some covert interference, much to his friends' chagrin. Things come to a head when the Enterprise is sent to investigate Dr. Woundwort, a Starfleet scientist with a reputation for dubious methods, who is supposedly working on a solution to a remote colony's infestation of pests resembling Earth rabbits...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Star Trek Halloween Horror Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, this is still one chapter short of being finished, but I'm going to go ahead and post it today, anyway. Many thanks to Deanna for beta-reading. </p><p>This was inspired by a 1970s B horror movie called "Night of the Lepus," which is indeed about giant mutant killer rabbits run amok, and also features DeForest Kelley in an unfortunate mustache. (I reviewed it a few years ago, <a href="https://vermin-disciple.tumblr.com/post/62759996125/night-of-the-lepus-part-1-part-2-part-3">here</a>.) Familiarity with the film is not necessary to follow this fic (which draws more on the premise and imagery of the film than the plot or characters anyway). </p><p>The fabulous artwork is by <a href="https://sweet-bolillito.tumblr.com/">Al Sweet</a>! You can also view their art post <a href="https://sweet-bolillito.tumblr.com/post/633337334709075968/spooky-halloween-everyone-i-had-the">here on Tumblr</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Jim Kirk knew that he was </em>not<em> going to die. </em></p><p>
  <em>With this poison coursing through his veins, making his body whole body shudder uncontrollably with pain, it should have been a difficult belief to hold on to. But it wasn’t. He still had Spock and Bones by his side, and as long as he had them he was practically immortal. Invincible. Indefatigable and indivisible and indefensible and all other words beginning with I. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>…Or maybe whatever Bones had injected him with earlier was having an inebriating effect on his brain. </em>
</p><p><em>They were hovering above him, two bright blue blurs in the darkness of the cave, muttering to each other in hushed tones. He could hear the words but could make no sense of them. A hand pressed against his forehead, paused, and then ran its fingers through his hair. Another hand brushed lightly against his, and he had a strange sensation of being searched, of being </em>analyzed<em>. </em></p><p>
  <em>He ought to have known which hand belonged to whom. Size? Texture? No, that wasn’t right. There was something about internal body temperature, wasn’t there? But his skin was on fire, and the only thing that registered about both hands was that they both were cooler than his burning skin. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Jim…” said one of them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He wanted to answer, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say, or, frankly, how to talk. He'd wanted to say something to them earlier, hadn’t he? What had it been? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe it didn’t matter. If it was important, then surely they already knew. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Something hard and cold and round pressed against his neck. His eyes were closing of their own accord. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>As he drifted off to sleep, Kirk thought he heard someone say, “There’s nothing else for it, Spock. I need to get my hands on one of those damn rabbits.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>Spock and McCoy had been dancing around each other ever since they’d escaped Sarpeidon, and the choreography was all wrong.</p><p>Kirk had read both of their reports several times now, searching for a clue between the lines that might shed some light on whatever was going on between them. Unfortunately, neither report gave anything in the way of extraneous detail. In fact, he was convinced that neither had given him all the <em>essential</em> details either. Spock and McCoy frequently handed him very different reports about the same event, but in this case, he could almost believe that they had teamed up to write two reports that were completely the same in all important aspects, neither offering any details or insights that couldn’t be found in the pages of the other.</p><p>The story was that after following him through the portal, they had found themselves in Sarpeidon’s ice age. They had sought shelter. They had found a cave. They had stayed there until it became feasible to return to the portal. Just another day serving the USS Enterprise.</p><p>And if that really was the case, why had McCoy stopped coming to the bridge?</p><p>If he’d been a more conventional captain, perhaps he would have been pleased. After all, his first officer and his chief medical officer were interacting with prefect civility and professionalism for the first time in three years. Not so much as a raised voice or even a raised eyebrow. Every time he saw a flash of that old spark – the insult would die on McCoy’s lips and Spock would bite back a critique on human emotionalism, and awkward silence would reign.</p><p>It was intolerable.</p><p>Yes, something had happened on Sarpeidon, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.</p><p>***</p><p>Jim decided to start with Bones – usually the easier nut to crack, if you had the right tools.</p><p>He strode into Sickbay with a sympathetic smile and a bottle of Saurian brandy under one arm.</p><p>“Bones! Just the man I wanted to see.”</p><p>Technically the CMO’s shift was long over, but McCoy had a bad habit of working more than was either advisable or allowed. He looked up from the PADD on his desk and cast a suspicious eye over the captain and his brandy. “You’re not getting out of your physical next week, no matter how much alcohol you ply me with.”</p><p>“I’m a little insulted that you think I need ulterior motives to have a drink with you,” he said, sitting down and setting the brandy between them on the desk. McCoy was already rummaging around in his cabinets for a pair of glasses.</p><p>“Oh, I don’t think you <em>need</em> an ulterior motive, Jim, but I can always tell when you have one.” Jim accepted a glass from his friend and flashed him a winning smile. The look of suspicion returned.</p><p>“Just tell me what’s going on,” said Bones, resigned.</p><p>“Funny, I came here to ask you the same thing.”</p><p>“Well, what’s going on is an outbreak of Bolian measles in crew quarters on deck 6.” The tone was dry, but Jim caught the minute twitch of muscle around his temples, and the way the hand holding the PADD clenched ever so slightly.</p><p>“Which I’m sure you’ll handle with all due efficiency,” said Jim. “What I want to know, Bones, is what’s going on between you and Spock?”</p><p>An unreadable expression flashed across his face, and there was the slightest hesitation before he spoke, in a casual tone so forced it was probably being held at phaser point. “I don’t know what you mean, Jim. Nothing’s going on between me and Spock. I haven’t even seen Spock in days.”</p><p>“That’s exactly my point. Ordinarily, you spend nearly as much time with him as you do with me. It’s obvious that you’re avoiding each other.”</p><p>McCoy’s eyes shifted from Kirk’s face to a point on the wall behind him. “Maybe I’m just mad at him. Wouldn’t be the first time.”</p><p>“If you were just mad at him, the entire ship would’ve heard about it.”</p><p>“Well, then maybe he’s mad at me.”</p><p>“Spock doesn’t <em>get</em> mad, even at you.” And to your continued disappointment, he didn’t add.</p><p>“I don’t know what to tell you then, Jim.”</p><p>“Maybe I’ll take the matter up with Mr. Spock, instead.”</p><p>“I suppose you can,” said McCoy, and the casual tone sounded even more forced than it had before. “But it’ll be like beating your head against a brick wall, seeing as how there’s nothing to tell. And even if there was, you won’t get it out of Spock unless he wants to tell you.”</p><p>“And you don’t think he wants to tell me. Assuming there’s anything to tell.”</p><p>McCoy sighed. “Look, Jim. Even if there was anything going on between me and Spock – and I’m not saying there is, mind – it’s between me and Spock.”</p><p>“What happened on Sarpeidon, Bones?”</p><p>“You’ve read our reports.”</p><p>“Your reports are light on detail. And don’t give me that look, I know it has something to do with that planet. I leave you two alone for a few hours…”</p><p>“Knock it off, Jim.” Bones was clearly right on the edge of losing his temper. “I swear, you never know when to leave well enough alone.”</p><p>Kirk raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say another word about it.” For now.</p><p>***</p><p>With Spock, of course, it was chess. It seemed like a long time since they had played a game. Come to think of it, it had been before Sarpeidon.</p><p>“Mr. Spock,” he said, moving his rook to take one of Spock’s pawns, “I just had a very interesting conversation with Dr. McCoy.”</p><p>That should have got him a cutting mark about how communication with Dr. McCoy’s was never interesting and could rarely be considered ‘conversation’, but Spock didn’t rise to the bait. He barely glanced up from the chessboard.</p><p>“He seems to think that the two of you aren’t avoiding each other, which is clearly incorrect.”</p><p>That, at least, got him a raised eyebrow. “Do you intend to order me to resume more regular interactions with the chief medical officer beyond what is necessary for the performance or our respective duties, <em>sir</em>?”</p><p>The ‘sir’ stung. He sighed. “It’s not an order, Spock. I just want to know why my two best friends have stopped speaking to one another, that’s all.”</p><p>There was a microscopic shift in Spock’s expression that was difficult to classify. If Jim didn’t know any better, he would’ve said he looked haunted.</p><p>Maybe he didn’t know any better. “Bones did tell me not to ask you about it.”</p><p>"About what?”</p><p>“About whatever happened to you two on Sarpeidon.”</p><p>“You have read our reports.”</p><p>“Yes, they were very informative.”</p><p>“Then there is nothing to discuss.”</p><p>***</p><p>What had happened on Sarpeidon? Try as he might, he couldn’t stop his mind going back to that.</p><p>From his vantage point on the other side of the portal, he hadn’t been able to make out much of Sarpeidon. Just the terrible blizzard threatening to swallow his friends up and blow them away. McCoy had been treated for frostbite when they returned. Sitting in Kirk’s cabin with a bottle of Saurian brandy between them, Bones had examined his restored hand, curling and uncurling his fingers.</p><p>“A couple of centuries ago, I would’ve had to cut them off.”</p><p>“A couple of centuries ago, you wouldn’t’ve found yourself stranded on an ice planet lightyears away from earth.”</p><p>But the tips of a few fingers weren’t much, really. They must have found a way to keep warm, somehow. Even after they found shelter – an empty cave in the snow wasn’t exactly a Risian sauna.</p><p>He could almost picture the scene: two blue-clad figures, the only speck of color on the swirling white horizon, clinging to one other with the wind howling around them. And just when it seems all hope is lost, they stumble into shelter.</p><p>Given Spock’s constitution, Bones would probably be in worse shape by that point, but he’d still try to insist on examining Spock. Spock would point out how illogical that was. Bones would, of course, argue with him. In his mind’s eye, Spock snatched up one of McCoy’s frostbitten hands.</p><p>
  <em>“Doctor, you are in no condition to examine anybody.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>McCoy tries to snatch his hand back, but fails. He says something like, “Let go of me, you green-blooded computer.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Spock of his imagination does not let go. “You are shaking.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>McCoy rolls his eyes. “It’s cold, in case you haven’t noticed.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I have noticed, Doctor. What are your medical recommendations?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well, we can’t build a fire. I’ve got an emergency blanket in my med kit, so it looks like we’re down to that and shared body heat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Spock raises an eyebrow.</em>
</p><p>You didn’t get to be captain of a starship if you didn’t read people well. Jim Kirk knew sexual tension when he saw it.</p><p>He’d been watching Spock and McCoy for three years. He’d watched them fight with each other and save each other and volunteer to die for one another. There had been times when he feared that they really, genuinely hated one another. But those times were fewer and farther between these days, and had never lasted long to begin with. Their arguments were loud and infamous, but they could speak without words, too. There was always an intensity between them, every conversation a potential minefield.</p><p>And then again, there was Spock, stroking McCoy’s face as he lay dying on Minara II, and McCoy murmuring “You’ve got a good bedside manner, Spock.”</p><p>And there was McCoy, his face twisted in agony, snarling at the Platonians, “He’s a Vulcan. You can’t force emotion out of him! You’ll destroy him!”</p><p>And there were Spock and McCoy huddled together in the dark, in an icy cave five thousand years in the past. Was that enough to push them over the edge?</p><p>And there were Spock and McCoy, in the present, avoiding one another, not meeting one another’s eyes when they were in the same room.</p><p>Kirk returned to the scene.</p><p>
  <em>“C’mon, Spock, I don’t bite,” McCoy says. He might even throw in, “Unless you really want me too,” for good measure.</em>
</p><p>(An image flashed across Kirk’s mind, of the two of them wrapped around one another, naked and flushed, McCoy’s open mouth pressed against the juncture of Spock’s neck and shoulder, while Spock--)</p><p>
  <em>Spock only hesitates for a moment before joining McCoy on the cave floor and allowing him to throw the blanket and an arm around him. Both of them look a little embarrassed about this, but they still instinctively lean in towards the warmth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I hope Jim is alright.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The Captain is resourceful. I am certain that he will be able to navigate whatever situation he finds himself in.” </em>
</p><p>(Kirk thought of the jail cell he’d found himself in, and smiled ruefully.)</p><p>
  <em>“And what about us?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“When the storm subsides, we must return to the portal.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And if we still can’t get through?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I do not know.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Very comforting.” He snuggles in closer. “Even with that green ice water running through your veins, you’re still a damn sight warmer than this cave.” He pulls back a little, giving Spock a suspicious look. “You’re not doing something to manipulate that, are you? I know you can regulate your autonomic functions if you want to, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to put yourself into a fever.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I have raised my temperature from 91° F to 93° F. That is still within the normal range for Vulcans.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not a degree more, Spock! It’s not safe and you know it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Neither is freezing to death,” says Spock. At McCoy’s glare, he adds, “I will cease. However, I would prefer it if you return to your previous position. Your internal body temperature is naturally higher than mine.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>McCoy grins at this and wraps both of his arms around Spock’s chest, forcing Spock to place a hesitant arm around his shoulders. </em>
</p><p>Vulcan touch-telepathy meant that Vulcans could sense the emotions of anyone they touched, but Spock had told him that Vulcan children were trained early on to block themselves off from this. Beyond the presumed discomfort, it was considered rude. Spock had assured him that he was not bothered by the human penchant for casual touch, though he suspected that what Spock <em>meant</em> was that he was not bothered by <em>Jim Kirk’s </em>penchant for casual touch. He’d never seemed bothered by McCoy’s penchants either. But there was a friendly handshake or pat on the shoulder on the one hand, and on the other, there was being pressed up close against an emotive human for hours on end, under intensely stressful circumstances. Would that be enough to erode Vulcan discipline?</p><p>He imagined McCoy, teeth chattering, face half pressed against Spock’s uniform. <em>“I can think of a few ways to get warmer, but I don’t think you’ll like any of them.” </em></p><p>
  <em>Spock, who can sense exactly what sort of ideas are floating around the McCoy’s half-frozen brain, flushes green. “Are you so certain about that, Doctor?” </em>
</p><p><em>“I </em>was<em>.” McCoy blinks, pulls back to look Spock in the eye. </em></p><p>
  <em>“I am presently inclined to consider your suggestions.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re just pulling my leg.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I was not aware that the pulling of legs was a feature of human foreplay.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>McCoy laughs. “Foreplay? Is that what this is?” he says, and straddles Spock’s lap. His next words are spoken low in Spock’s ear. “Is that all it ever is?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Spock kisses him. It’s a slow, deliberate action, but there’s nothing tentative about it.</em>
</p><p>Kirk was treading dangerous water here, and he knew it. If he was honest with himself, it was familiar dangerous water, an abyss he seemed to perpetually teeter on the edge of. He relied on both of them too much as it was, anything more would be madness. A starship captain was bound by the duty he owed to his ship, and his crew, and no one could take precedence over that. Much safer for everyone if they were drawn to each other, not to him. And if he enjoyed picturing that particular eventuality more than he ought to, strictly speaking, what did it matter, really? It didn’t hurt anyone but him.</p><p>The Spock and McCoy in his mind warmed themselves with increasingly fervent kisses. But what was to be done about the coldness that had come over their real life counterparts?</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>“Doctor.”</p><p>Dr. McCoy was standing at his doorway, not quite meeting his eyes. He’d been expecting this. He had even considered approaching the doctor’s cabin with the same intent.</p><p>“Hi, Spock. Can I come in?”</p><p>“I am busy.”</p><p>“I thought you could multitask. Or are you just gonna keep avoiding me until Jim decides to lock us in a turbolift?”</p><p>“I am not avoiding you. You are avoiding me.”</p><p>Spock stepped aside. McCoy stepped into his cabin and straight into a cloud of incense.</p><p>After his brief coughing fit subsided, McCoy choked out, “Well, I’m only avoiding you because you told me to.”</p><p>“I made no such demand. And even if I had, you would undoubtedly have ignored such a request if you did not wish to follow it.”</p><p>McCoy plopped himself down in the chair in front of Spock’s desk. “You requested M’Benga,” he said. “When we got back, and I ordered you to undergo a medical evaluation before returning to duty.”</p><p>Spock took the seat across from him, illogically pleased to have a desk between them. “Dr. M’Benga is more qualified than you are to examine Vulcans, and you were in no condition to return to active duty yourself. It was a logical request.”</p><p>“Spock, in three years you have never requested M’Benga over me. <em>I’ve</em> requested consultations with M’Benga on your behalf, because you’re right, he <em>is</em> better qualified to deal with Vulcans than I am. But you’re also half-human, and at this point I’d say that I am the foremost expert in Starfleet when it comes to Vulcan-human hybrids.”</p><p>Spock raised an eyebrow. “So you are avoiding me because you believe that your medical credentials have been slighted?”</p><p>“That isn’t what I meant at all and you know it, you—” McCoy bit back whatever insult he’d been about to use and took a deep breath. He was shaking a little with badly suppressed anger. “You as good as told me you didn’t want to see me.”</p><p>“I did not wish to see anyone, Doctor. I wished to be alone.”</p><p>“I’m not surprised. I should’ve ordered a psych evaluation, but I knew it wouldn’t do a lick of good. You could con any shrink on this ship if it suited you.”</p><p>“Psychiatric evaluation was not necessary. I merely needed time to meditate on recent events and put them into proper perspective.”</p><p>“Repress the hell out of them, you mean.”</p><p>“Doctor, by now you must understand better than anyone why the Vulcan practice of emotional suppression is not merely logical, but necessary for us. I was willing to strand you on an alien planet in the grip of an ice age for the sake of a stranger with a pretty face. I am capable of causing you far more harm than I think you realize.”</p><p>“God knows I’ve given you enough cause.”</p><p>“That is not what I meant.”</p><p>“But it’s true. I keep thinking I know where the line is, with you. Now I’m starting to think that I was wrong the whole time.”</p><p>“The ‘line’, doctor?”</p><p>“The line between a friendly insult and an unfriendly one.”</p><p>“Please endeavor to explain whatever it is you mean.”</p><p>“It’s something you said on Sarpeidon.”</p><p>“I would prefer that you disregard anything I might have said – or done – on that planet.”</p><p>“I called you – I don’t even remember what I called you. Something about your ears or your blood or some other part of your anatomy. And you said ‘I don't like that. I don't think I ever did and now I'm sure.’”</p><p>Spock did not sigh, because that was not a very Vulcan thing to do. But he took a long moment to reply, gazing contemplatively into his incense. “I believe that I was very angry with you when I said that.”</p><p>“So what?”</p><p>“My object in saying it was to make you feel guilty so that you would stop trying to interfere. I would go so far as to say that I was trying to inflict pain.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make it less true.”</p><p>“My ears are pointed. My blood is green. It would be illogical to be offended over a mere statement of fact, even if it were possible for me to feel offense.”</p><p>“Are you saying that you want me to go back to insulting you?”</p><p>“I would prefer it if you returned to your normal patterns of behavior. This reticence would seem to indicate that you do not believe that I have fully regained control of myself.”</p><p>McCoy considered him thoughtfully for a few moments. “You think I don’t trust you.”</p><p>“I did attempt to strangle you.”</p><p>“But you didn’t. I provoked you, Spock. I <em>deliberately</em> provoked you. I was trying to get you to lash out at me. I needed to prove a point.”</p><p>“That was exceptionally foolish. In that state I could have easily killed you.”</p><p>“I don’t believe that. I didn’t believe it then and I don’t believe it now. <em>Because</em> I trust you.” As he spoke, McCoy had reached across the desk and taken both Spock’s hands in his. Spock wondered if he had done it subconsciously, or if he had done it because he wanted Spock to feel what he was feeling now. Not just the conviction he felt that Spock would not willingly harm him, but the underlying emotions as well: warmth, and affection, and more than he could ever bring himself to say aloud. Spock’s heart-rate increased involuntarily, and he concentrated on slowing it back down to normal. He could not decide on an adequate response.</p><p>The door chimed.</p><p>McCoy pulled his hands away, a little too quickly.</p><p>“Bones! I didn’t expect to find you in here.”</p><p>Spock had a suspicion, though he had no means of proving it, that Jim was lying.</p><p>“I was just leaving.” He was already rising hastily from his chair.</p><p>“Stay. I’m sure Spock doesn’t mind if you join us.”</p><p>McCoy eyed Spock warily and Spock nodded his head slightly in acquiescence.</p><p>“Alright. I suppose that paperwork can wait,” he said, lowering himself back into the chair.</p><p>Jim beamed at both of them.</p><p>***</p><p>The following day, McCoy had resumed his habitual post behind Kirk’s chair, and everything was abruptly back to normal.</p><p>They’d beamed down to a planet of sentient plants. McCoy had teased Spock about how he must be considered a dangerous predator here, and Spock had said that he found it most agreeable to spend time with intelligent life that did not feel the need for excessive verbalization. And when one of their host’s enemies had attempted to swallow their CMO whole, Spock had been the one to pull him out of the thing’s – mouth? – jaws? – slimy oral cavity and resuscitate him. Kirk couldn’t help but notice the way his hands seemed to linger longer than was necessary, and how McCoy clung to him as he came to.</p><p>Once they were safely back on the bridge, no limbs lost to any carnivorous foliage, Kirk reflected that it was almost <em>too</em> normal. It was as if the two of them had agreed that whatever had happened on Sarpeidon had <em>not</em> happened, and the more he thought about it, the more convinced Kirk was that he shouldn’t have burst in on them in Spock’s quarters the night before. Whatever conversation they had been having had looked… tense.</p><p>What would have happened if he hadn’t blundered in?</p><p>He thought of McCoy perching himself on Spock’s desk, Spock’s raised eyebrow, McCoy’s grin. <em>“Don’t you think it’s time we stop pretending, Spock?” </em></p><p>
  <em>Spock rises from his chair. “I am not sure that is wise, doctor.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Probably not,” he says, but he pulls Spock towards him anyway, and Spock leans into the kiss with a soft little sigh.</em>
</p><p>Kirk mentally shook himself; it was one thing to conjure up images like that when he was alone in the privacy of his own quarters, and another to try it when the two men in question were both standing on the bridge with him. Spock was bent over his station intently analyzing some new readings about the planet’s atmosphere, and Kirk was nearly certain that McCoy was covertly checking out his ass. He looked away quickly when he noticed Kirk watching him, and muttered something about having his own samples to analyze before disappearing off to his lab.</p><p>Everything was back to normal, but somehow normal felt all wrong. Perhaps something could be done about it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Does Jim seem alright to you?”</p><p>“The captain appears to be in a state of good health, in spite of your ministrations.”</p><p>McCoy decided to let that one go. “You don’t think he’s been acting strangely?”</p><p>Spock hesitated. “You are referring to the way he has been conducting landing parties.” It wasn’t a question.</p><p>“Once is a fluke, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern.”</p><p>It had started on Yenta III, and had not seemed unusual at the time. Their presence was merely a diplomatic courtesy for a planet newly added to the Federation, meaning that they were subject to endless displays of hospitality from the Yentanese government. One of these displays was an offer to tour some of the planet’s famed scientific facilities, a lengthy shuttle-ride away from the Tetrarch’s palace. When Jim had declined to accompany them, Spock had thought little of it, and McCoy had raised an eyebrow and warned him not to “get too cozy” with the Tetrarch’s beautiful daughter.</p><p>Then there had been a routine surveying mission, in which a landing party had been assigned for each of the planetoid’s three continents. Kirk had beamed down to the eastern continent and sent both of them to the western one.</p><p>Even more suspicious had been the mission on Casperia Prime, where he and Dr. McCoy had been sent to track down a peculiar lifeform that had taken up residence in a resort’s spa facilities, which was the sort of mission the captain usually made sure to assign himself to.</p><p>And the list went on, each new episode less justifiable than the last.</p><p>“By my count there have been nine incidents. I agree that this constitutes a pattern, but I have been unable to ascertain its meaning.”</p><p>“You don’t think he had anything to do with that malfunctioning turbolift, do you?”</p><p>“It is unlikely, though not impossible.”</p><p>“Not even inconceivable, at this point. But why in the hell would Jim want to lock us in a turbolift? Unless—” McCoy stopped talking abruptly, and groaned. “Oh God.”</p><p>Spock raised an eyebrow. “Doctor?”</p><p>“I think Jim’s put two and two together and come up with five.”</p><p>“Doctor, I will never understand why you are incapable of explaining yourself in a clear and concise manner, without resorting to nonsensical colloquialisms.”</p><p>“Would you prefer it if I explained it in binary?”</p><p>“Although that would no doubt be interesting, I do not think it would provide any elucidation.”</p><p>McCoy sighed. “I mean that Jim’s been watching us argue for a long time, and I think he’s come to the wrong conclusion about what it means.”</p><p>The eyebrow went up again. “Our disagreements are typically quite straightforward. I do not see what sort of subtext Jim might read into them.”</p><p>To his surprise, McCoy chuckled. “You like the classics, right? You ever read <em>Much Ado About Nothing</em>?”</p><p>“I am familiar with the play,” said Spock. He wasn’t sure he liked where this conversation seemed to be going.</p><p>“Jim thinks we’re Beatrice and Benedick.”</p><p>“That is illogical,” said Spock. “Do humans always interpret animosity as a sign of sublimated romantic interest?”</p><p>“Well, it is a cliché for a reason. Not that it means anything here,” he added quickly.</p><p>“Obviously,” said Spock.</p><p>“Why now, though? We’ve been like oil and water since the day we met. If he thinks that’s a sign of unresolved sexual tension, why is he only now trying to get us to, uh, resolve it?” In spite of his flippant tone, McCoy was starting to blush.</p><p>“Sarpeidon,” said Spock.</p><p>“Oh,” said McCoy.</p><p>“The captain expressed curiosity about our time on that planet, and I believe that he was… dissatisfied by my answers.”</p><p>“Mine too. And if I were Jim, I’d probably find it all suspicious as hell. Two officers return from an away mission gone awry with sketchy, dubious reports and then stop talking to one another? I’d think something happened between them. I’d guess it was something they were embarrassed about. Could be a fight. But let’s say,<em> hypothetically</em>, that these two officers are infamous for fighting. What could they possibly say to each other that they haven’t already said? So I start thinking that maybe it was the opposite of a fight. Maybe they started getting along a little too well.”</p><p>“That is all baseless speculation.”</p><p>“I’m sure Jim knows the best way to warm up on an ice planet is to share body heat.”</p><p>So did Spock, and he was rather grateful that McCoy did not bring that up. Even if circumstances had been… different, McCoy had nearly died, and would have been in no condition to do anything except share body heat in a literal and non-euphemistic sense.</p><p>And if circumstances <em>had</em> been different?</p><p>He did not find the hypothetical scenario as unappealing as he thought he should. But he certainly wasn’t going to say that. If McCoy’s line of reasoning was correct – and he was willing to concede that McCoy did have more insight into the convoluted and illogical meanderings of the human brain than he did – he couldn’t help but wonder if Jim’s newfound fixation meant that <em>he</em> found the scenario appealing. Spock found the idea intriguing, though he did not intend to admit to that, either.</p><p>“I do not think you have adequate data to back up this supposition. However… if your assessment of the captain’s reasoning does prove accurate, what do you suggest we do about it?</p><p>“We’re going to have to talk to him about it. You may even have to swallow that Vulcan pride of yours and tell him what happened to you on Sarpeidon,” said McCoy. “I’m worried something’s going to happen to him if he keeps going off without either of us to keep him out of trouble. You know what Jim’s like.”</p><p>Spock knew all too well. Worry was an emotion, and therefore not something that Spock should be subject to. Nevertheless, Jim Kirk had a way sometimes of thwarting even his own rigorous self-control.</p><p>A vivid memory of holding up McCoy’s dead weight as they trudged through the snow flashed across his mind, and he thought that if he was being completely honest with himself, it wasn’t just Jim.</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Captain’s Log, Stardate 6942.5. We are en route to the human colony on the planet Efrafa, where an invasive leporiform species, first introduced as livestock, is wreaking havoc on the local ecosystems, wildlife, and the colony’s crops and food stores. Efforts to contain the animals humanely have been unsuccessful thus far. Several months ago, a renowned Starfleet scientist, Dr. Woundwort, was sent with his team to find a solution to the pest problem, but in the past week Starfleet has lost all contact with him and his facility. Our mission is to locate Dr. Woundwort and provide whatever assistance we can. </em>
</p><p>“Do they think the rabbits got him?” said Sulu.</p><p>No one on the bridge crew seemed to be taking the mission very seriously, except for Spock, who always took everything seriously, and Chekov, who had already earnestly informed them that “Something like this once happened in Russia.”</p><p>“They are not rabbits, Mr. Sulu,” said Spock. “The resemblance is largely superficial. The appendages on their heads are not ears but a form of antennae, and what appears to be fur is actually composed of densely packed spines which stiffen when the creature senses danger. Furthermore, they are omnivorous rather than herbivorous.”</p><p>Kirk examined the picture on his PADD, and had to admit that, apart from the protruding canines, the animal looked just like a rabbit.</p><p>“Do you know anything about this Dr. Woundwort, Mr. Spock?” asked Kirk, who wasn’t all that inclined to listen to a full lecture on the differences between rabbits and leporiform pseudo-mammalian aliens.</p><p>“I have never met him, though I am familiar with his reputation,” said Spock. “He is said to be brilliant, but somewhat eccentric.”</p><p>“A good old-fashioned mad scientist,” said McCoy, who always seemed to materialize on the bridge just when Spock was about to say something offensively logical.</p><p>“There is nothing in Dr. Woundwort’s history which suggests psychological affliction.”</p><p>“You never met him.”</p><p>“I take it that you have, Bones?”</p><p>McCoy shrugged. “Our paths crossed once or twice, back before he gave up medical practice for biological research. And Spock’s right about one thing: he <em>is </em>brilliant. But he’s definitely not playing with a full deck, and whatever he’s playing, he makes up the rules as he goes along. Rumor has it he nearly got expelled from the Academy for running a few unauthorized experiments.”</p><p>“And a rumor goes around the world before the truth can get its pants on,” said Kirk. “Let’s give Dr. Woundwort the benefit of the doubt until we find out what happened to him.”</p><p>“Captain,” said Uhura, “I can’t make contact with Dr. Woundwort’s lab. The frequency is correct, but no one is answering.”</p><p>“What about the Efrafan parliament?”</p><p>“Negative, sir. I haven’t been able to reach any of our official contacts.”</p><p>“See if you can find some unofficial contacts.” Kirk was already rising from his chair. “In the meantime, I’m beaming down a landing party. Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy – you’re with me.”</p>
<hr/><p>The building was deserted. Not just the building, but the whole block. Worse, everything was in shambles. Broken glass crunched under their boots as they materialized on the street.</p><p>“I want you two to investigate the lab. Ensign Wigg can act as lookout. I’m going to take Lieutenant Hazel and search the perimeter.”</p><p>McCoy gave Spock a significant look, but now wasn’t the time to argue. Besides, they were undoubtedly the best qualified to make sense of an empty lab. Jim was a captain first and a matchmaker second.</p><p>Spock was scanning the nearest wall with his tricorder. “The building is constructed with luddinite. Our communicators are unlikely to function inside.”</p><p>“That also explains why we couldn’t beam in directly,” said Jim. “Take every precaution, gentlemen.”</p><p>Ensign Wigg, a large, burly security officer universally known as Big Wigg, led the way into the derelict building, making an ostentatious show of scanning every inch of the deserted hallway and pointing his phaser at every shadow. If it weren’t for the pervasive eeriness putting him on edge, McCoy would have chuckled at his youthful enthusiasm. Spock looked like he was this close to rolling his eyes.</p><p>They found the lab easily enough, and left Ensign Wigg guarding the door.</p><p>“Cages,” observed McCoy. “They looked like they’ve all been busted through.”</p><p>“From the inside,” said Spock.</p><p>“I’m guessing Dr. Woundwort still has a taste for unauthorized experimentation.”</p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p>The laboratory looked like it’d been hit by a highly localized twister. Broken glass littered the floor and unidentified chemicals splattered the walls.</p><p>“Dry,” said Spock. “This appears to have happened some time ago.”</p><p>“A few days at least,” agreed McCoy. “I’ve found his lab notes. The last entry is dated a week ago.”</p><p>Spock came up behind him and leaned over his shoulder to inspect the book. McCoy could feel his heart-rate increasing at the sudden proximity, and told himself that it was just Jim and his crazy ideas making his skin heat up and his palms sweat.</p><p>It sounded a little feeble, even in his own head.</p><p>“It appears that he was attempting to create a sterilizing agent in the form of a virus,” said Spock.</p><p>“Something must have gone wrong. You don’t think he managed to unleash some kind of—”</p><p>Spock suddenly put a hand on his shoulder, and spoke low in his ear. “Doctor, do you hear that?”</p><p>McCoy tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped over at the feeling of Spock’s breath on the back of his neck, and focus instead on whatever it was he was supposed to be listening for.</p><p>“I don’t hear any—”</p><p>But then, he did.</p><p>Only he didn’t so much <em>hear </em>it, as <em>feel</em> it – a low rumbling that seemed to bubble up from the earth beneath the building, like something emerging from the underworld.</p><p>The walls started to shake.</p><p>“What the hell is that?”</p><p>A shout rang out from outside the lab door, angry and terrified.</p><p>They looked at each other, and then darted towards the hallway. Ensign Wigg had abandoned his post by the door and darted off down the hall, brandishing his phaser at an oncoming horde.</p><p>An oncoming horde of… <em>rabbits</em>.</p><p><em>Giant rabbits</em>.</p><p>They were closing in on the unfortunate Wigg. Two or three lay stunned or dead on the floor, but the others trampled over their fallen comrades, a dozen at least, and each the size of a Great Dane. The fangs that differentiated them from Earth rabbits were terrifyingly obvious at this size.</p><p>“Ensign!” said Spock, shouting to be heard over the rumbling of over-sized bunny feet, “do not engage. Retreat!”</p><p>But it was too late. The rabbits swarmed around him like piranha, and the phaser blasts Spock and McCoy aimed in their direction seemed to have little effect. There was a final, agonized scream, and then all was silence save for the sounds of chewing. Spock grabbed McCoy’s arm and pulled him back into the laboratory, slamming the door shut behind them.</p><p>“Those are the pests Woundwort was supposed to be containing?”</p><p>“Affirmative.”</p><p>“The report said they were about 5 or 6 pounds. Size of your average cottontail.”</p><p>“Affirmative.”</p><p>McCoy glanced out the small window in the lab door and then back at Spock. “Those things do not look like any goddamn cottontails to me. What the hell happened to them?”</p><p>“I do not like to speculate without more data, but it is logical to suspect Dr. Woundwort’s involvement.”</p><p>“You think he’s up to his old tricks? More unauthorized experiments?”</p><p>“We should consult his lab notes.”</p><p>“Do you think this door will hold?”</p><p>This time it was Spock’s turn to check the window. “Unlikely. We should attempt to form a blockade of some sort.”</p><p>“Any chance of getting the communicators to work?”</p><p>“It may be possible to amplify the signal, but it would take time. It may be easier to attempt to repair the laboratory’s communications array.”</p><p>McCoy looked dubiously at the smashed equipment. Their best option wasn’t exactly promising. “Okay, we’ll block the door, then you can work on hailing the ship. What about Jim?”</p><p>“If the captain is still outside the building, he should be able to beam up and return with assistance.”</p><p>“Assuming he knows we’re in need of assistance.”</p><p>An explosion rattled the walls. The few vials and beakers that had escaped the earlier destruction fell to the floor and shattered.</p><p>“I believe he knows,” said Spock.</p><p>Outside the door, the hallway was in shambles and any giant rabbits that had survived the blast had fled. A few small fires burned, and the smell of charred hair and flesh was starting to permeate the door. Cautiously, Spock opened the door.</p><p>“An overloaded phaser, I believe,” he said.</p><p>“An astute deduction, Mr. Spock.”</p><p>“Jim!” McCoy grinned broadly and rushed over to clap his friend on the shoulder. Spock followed more sedately, though he too looked relieved.</p><p>“What happened to Ensign Wigg?”</p><p>“He’s dead. Tried to take on the horde single-handed.”</p><p>“Lieutenant Hazel didn’t make it either. We surprised one of them outside and it turned on us. Jumped on Hazel before I found a high enough phaser setting to kill it. Next one drained the power completely.” He looked ruefully at his useless weapon, and McCoy had an ominous sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>“Captain, I suggest that we return to the ship and reassess the situation,” said Spock.</p><p>“I concur, Mr. Spock. Hopefully the blast sent the rest of them scurrying back wherever they came from.”</p><p>“I’m going to take a blood sample. I want to know what the hell these things are.” As he spoke, McCoy was already kneeling down next to the nearest mutant rabbit. “There, now let’s—”</p><p>The massive carcass, mangled and bloody, shuddered. Two small black eyes blinked open.</p><p>It was on him in an instant; everything went dark as a mass of brown fur covered his eyes, his mouth, his nose, smothering him. McCoy gasped for breath and his mouth was filled with foul tasting hair.</p><p>Then it was wrenched away from him and someone was pulling him upright while he coughed fur out of his mouth and took several deep, shuddering breaths.</p><p>But it wasn’t over. Kirk had wrestled the thing to the ground, but it was still kicking, snarling in fury at its attacker.</p><p>“Doctor?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” he gasped. “Help Jim.”</p><p>All around them, other supposed corpses were starting to quiver, feebly lifting their heads and surveying the scene.</p><p>Spock pulled Kirk’s attacker off and shoved it several feet away from them before shooting it with his own phaser. It fell over, dead, next to the stirring body of one of its fallen friends. Kirk had a nasty gash on his arm and what looked like a bite mark on his shoulder, and his shirt was half torn off, but he smiled when Spock offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. By this point McCoy had managed to haul himself up, not too much the worse for wear.</p><p>“Stairwell,” he said to Spock, nodding to the nearby door he’d spied while his friends were grappling with the rabbit.</p><p>As the door slammed shut behind them they were plunged into darkness and a silence as comforting as it was eerie.</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>Kirk knew as soon as Spock pulled him to his feet that something was wrong with him. The wounds on his arm and shoulder were bleeding, but they were shallow – no real danger there, though Bones would probably start fussing over him in a minute. But his head was swimming. He felt dizzy. He had to lean on Spock as they darted for the door to the stairwell.</p><p>The stairs led to a basement. Spock released him once they were on through the door, looking almost embarrassed. That was unfortunate, because navigating his way down the stairs took far more effort than it should have. He followed last, clinging to the railing all the way down, grateful for the darkness.</p><p>A switch was flicked and the room flooded with light.</p><p>“I need to take a look at that wound,” said McCoy.</p><p>“I’m fine,” lied Kirk. “It can wait. What’s your assessment of the situation, gentlemen?” he asked, putting on his best Captain voice and trying not to shake. He was afraid that if he released the railing he might topple over, but with a little effort he managed to sidle over to lean against the wall.</p><p>“Dire,” said Spock. “The creatures are nearly impervious to phaser fire, and we are incapable of communicating with the ship.”</p><p>“Always the optimist,” said McCoy. “Think there’s another way outta here?”</p><p>Spock surveyed the room. “It is doubtful.”</p><p>“It can’t hurt to look around,” said Kirk, although, truth be told, he thought that moving another inch would hurt a great deal.</p><p>“Looking around’s what got us into this mess,” muttered McCoy, crossing his arms and frowning.</p><p>“Do you have something to say, doctor?” said Kirk.</p><p>Spock glanced from one to the other, and raised an eyebrow.</p><p>McCoy uncrossed his arms, shot Spock a significant look and said, “Yeah, I do. What kinda game are you playing, Jim?”</p><p>“I’m not sure what you mean by that, Bones. All that I’m doing right now is trying to get us out of this mess alive.”</p><p>“Why were you outside guarding the perimeter instead of searching the lab with us? You’ve been acting real strange lately, and I want to know why.”</p><p>He looked over at Spock, hoping for some intervention. Spock and Bones could usually be counted on to contradict one another on principle. But this time, Spock clearly had no intention of intervening. He was looking at Kirk keenly, awaiting an answer.</p><p>“The perimeter needed to be secured.”</p><p>“But not by you!”</p><p>“Captain, you usually prefer to be involved in whatever you deem to be the most important or informative part of a mission. The laboratory was the location most likely to yield vital information. Yet you chose not to accompany us. It was uncharacteristic of you. Moreover, this is not the first time in recent weeks that you have made an uncharacteristic command decision such as this. And the result of these decisions always seems to result in the doctor and myself in one place, and you in another.”</p><p>“Why is that, Jim?”</p><p>Kirk had had showdowns with Klingons and Romulans and homicidal AIs and more superbeings with delusions of godhood than you could shake a stick out. He certainly wasn’t going to let his best friends corner him. Even if the burning sensation spreading across his skin from the wound on his shoulder was making it very difficult to keep his cool.</p><p>“What is it that you two are accusing me of, exactly?” he said, voice even.</p><p>“I would not call it an accusation,” said Spock. “Merely an observation.”</p><p>“<em>I’d</em> call it an accusation,” said McCoy. “I know you, Jim. I know when you’re up to something.”</p><p>Kirk did his best to look mildly amused. “You still haven’t told me what it is I’m ‘up to’.”</p><p>McCoy looked at Spock. Spock looked at McCoy. They both looked at him. Kirk felt faint, which was just embarrassing. He was struck by a sudden impulse to tell them the truth – the whole truth – about their feelings, his feelings, everybody’s feelings. It was clearly a day for terrible ideas.</p><p>“Jim!”</p><p>Kirk hadn’t even realized he was collapsing. Had he tried to step away from the wall? He was too dizzy to remember. In any case, Bones and Spock were at his side in an instant, one at each arm to catch him before he hit the floor.</p><p>The only furniture in the room consisted of a few dusty shelves, so they navigated him over to a slightly moth-eaten rug and helped him sit down. Then McCoy made him lie down, because he was like that.</p><p>McCoy checked his pulse and scanned him with his tricorder, his lips pursed.</p><p>“Just what I thought,” he said. “The damn things are poisonous!”</p><p>“Venomous,” corrected Spock.</p><p>“What?” snapped McCoy.</p><p>“The toxin was injected via the leporiform’s bite, which would indicate that the organisms are venomous. We have no data to suggest that they are also poisonous.”</p><p>Bones stood abruptly and took a step toward Spock. “I have a degree in xenobiology, Mr. Spock, so I do not need to be lectured on the difference between venomous and poisonous organisms by a goddamn pointy-eared computer!”</p><p>“Gentlemen, as fascinating as this debate over semantics is—” He attempted to sit up and give them a stern look, but instead his face contorted in pain and he fell back to the ground with a grown. Stalactites glistened and swirled above his head, kaleidoscope-like. Probably not a good sign.</p><p>Bones dropped back to his side in an instant. “Don’t you move a muscle, Jim. The poison’ll move more quickly through your system if you don’t lie still.” He turned to Spock, who had also knelt down next to Kirk, and said, “We need to get him up to the ship.”</p><p>“Even if the communicators were functional, the luddinite would also prevent us from beaming up.”</p><p>“So we need to figure out a way to get past those things and back outside.”</p><p>“Affirmative.”</p><p>They both looked down at Kirk, and he did not like either of their expressions. Spock did not look worried the way McCoy did, but there was something in his eyes that made Kirk feel both warm and cold at the same time.</p><p>“How do you feel, Jim?”</p><p>“A little dizzy,” he admitted.</p><p>“You’re burning up,” said McCoy, putting a cool hand on Kirk’s forehead. The tricorder would have already told him Kirk’s temperature, but McCoy like the old-fashioned, hands-on approach. Kirk felt the press of a hypospray against his neck. “That should slow it down a little, but we need to find an antidote, and quick.”</p><p>“Dr. Woundwort’s notes may be of assistance,” said Spock.</p><p>McCoy rose and joined Spock. Kirk could hear the two of them talking in low voices, heads together as they pored over Woundwort’s notes. Kirk felt strangely lonely. Their words were getting harder to understand. All his senses were getting hazier. The situation was undoubtedly grim.</p><p>Well, wasn’t it always?</p><p>Kirk should have been afraid, or angry. After all, what a stupid, embarrassing way to die. Death by giant mutant killer rabbit bite.</p><p>But deep down, Jim Kirk knew that he was not going to die. He still had Spock and Bones by his side, and as long as he had them he was practically immortal.</p><p>They were hovering above him again, two bright blue blurs in the darkness of the cave, muttering to each other in hushed tones. He could hear the words but could make no sense of them. A hand pressed against his forehead, paused, and then ran its fingers through his hair. Another hand brushed lightly against his, and he had a strange sensation of being searched, of being <em>analyzed</em>.</p><p>He ought to have known which hand belonged to whom. Size? Texture? No, that wasn’t right. There was something about internal body temperature, wasn’t there? But his skin was on fire, and the only thing that registered about both hands was that they both were cooler than his burning skin.</p><p>“Jim…” said one of them.</p><p>He wanted to answer, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say, or, frankly, how to talk. He'd wanted to say something to them earlier, hadn’t he? What had it been?</p><p>Maybe it didn’t matter. If it was important, then surely they already knew.</p><p>Something hard and cold and round pressed against his neck. His eyes were closing of their own accord.</p><p>As he drifted off to sleep, Kirk thought he heard someone say, “There’s nothing else for it, Spock. I need to get my hands on one of those damn rabbits.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There’s nothing else for it, Spock. I need to get my hands on one of those damn rabbits. This might slow the poison down, in the meantime. He'll be out for a few hours."</p>
<p>"The captain would undoubtedly prefer to remain awake. He will not approve of your actions."</p>
<p>"Well, the captain doesn't know what's good for him. That's why he has us."</p>
<p>Spock looked away. "That would seem to be the source of our current trouble."</p>
<p>McCoy sighed. "Jim may not know what's good for him, but he sure thinks he knows what's good for <em>us</em>."</p>
<p>"Indeed."</p>
<p>“We’re gonna have to have a real conversation about that, when this is over.”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Right now, we need to find a way up to Woundwort’s lab. I need his equipment if I’m going to create this antidote of his.”</p>
<p>“Are you certain that we can trust his notes on the subject?”</p>
<p>“Well, the principle looks sound enough to me. Why?”</p>
<p>“I have a suspicion about Dr. Woundwort. I do not yet have adequate data to support it, however.”</p>
<p>“Tell me anyway.”</p>
<p>“I suspect that the enlarged form of the leporiform pests were created in his lab.”</p>
<p>“Of course! He was experimenting with the pituitary gland. Do you think it was an accident?”</p>
<p>“If Woundwort is to blame, his sudden disappearance could be interpreted as a sign of guilt, but it could also indicate that he was forced to flee when the experiment went awry.”</p>
<p>“And the rabbits escaped.”</p>
<p>“Precisely.”</p>
<p>McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose. “None of this makes any sense. Why was he trying to make giant rabbits in the first place?”</p>
<p>“We will have to ask him that, assuming he is still alive.”</p>
<p>“And assuming we can find him. But right now, we need to focus on finding an antidote for Jim.”</p>
<p>“It is possible that not all of the creatures survived the blast. The others may have vacated the building by now.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but how are we going to tell, without opening the door?”</p>
<p>“I may be able to sense them.”</p>
<p>They climbed back up to the top of the stairs. Spock placed both hands against the door. For a moment, there was complete silence, as Spock reached out his mind to whatever living thing might still be lurking out in the hall. Suddenly, he gasped and pushed himself away from the wall with a moan of pain. McCoy rushed to his side and helped him regain his balance.</p>
<p>“Spock, what happened? Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Spock’s composure returned to him, and he removed himself from McCoy’s steadying hands. “I am uninjured, Doctor. The creatures are still in the hall, many injured and in considerable pain, but alive.”</p>
<p>“Dammit. What do we do now? We can’t afford to wait them out.”</p>
<p>“No, we cannot.” Spock pressed his hands together in silent contemplation, and McCoy tried to rein in his impatience and let the man think. Finally he said, “Many animals are sensitive to noises outside the range of human ears. I believe I can reconfigure the tricorder to emit a series of ultrasonic sound waves that would encourage the leporiforms to disperse.”</p>
<p>They descended the stairs, and McCoy checked Jim’s vitals again while Spock worked on the tricorder. His readings were just as alarming, but there still wasn’t anything more he could do, except give into the impulse to brush his friend’s hair back with his fingertips. Naturally, Spock chose that particular moment to look over and raise his eyebrow. McCoy retracted his hand.</p>
<p>“Those ultrasonic pulses may be outside the range of human hearing, but I bet they’ll give you one hell of a headache.”</p>
<p>“That is of little importance, Doctor.”</p>
<p>“Unfortunately, you’re right. But don’t think I won’t be keeping an eye on you as well.”</p>
<p>Spock gave him a Look. “You are very persistent.”</p>
<p>“How else am I supposed to prevent you two from getting yourselves killed?”</p>
<p>Spock didn’t have an answer to that, and returned to fiddling with his tricorder.</p>
<p>At last, he nodded his head in satisfaction and said, “This should be sufficient to clear the corridor. I have connected it to Jim’s communicator to ensure that he remains protected as well.”</p>
<p>McCoy gave Kirk another cursory examination, not that there was much point: Kirk was still out cold and there was nothing else McCoy could do for him at the moment. Spock hovered behind him, but as he turned to leave, he noticed that Spock hesitated a moment longer. He jerked his eyes away when Spock’s fingers made fleeting contact with Jim’s.</p>
<p>They made their way back up the stairs. When they reached the door, Spock flicked a switch on the tricorder, and if the noise bothered him he didn’t let it show. McCoy couldn’t hear a damn thing. After a few tense minutes, Spock pressed his ear to the door, and nodded. The door opened on the aftermath of a massacre. Mangled flesh, fur and bone littered the hallway, hardly recognizable as the monsters who had pursued them. In lieu of other prey, they must have turned on their fallen brethren after the phaser exploded. The gnawed proximal end of a human femur caught McCoy’s eye amidst the carnage, and he shuddered.</p>
<p>“My God.”</p>
<p>“Doctor, our time is limited. Will this specimen suit your purpose?”</p>
<p>McCoy nearly snapped at him for his seeming indifference to the horror before them, but the flicker of a grimace flashed across Spock’s face, so he bit his tongue.</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’ll do.”</p>
<p>The corpse in question was more or less intact, apart from the gaping head wound that had killed it. Spock hoisted it onto his shoulders and they moved as briskly as they dared towards Woundwort’s lab. Once the rabbit had been deposited on a lab bench, Spock set to work downloading files from Woundwort’s computers while McCoy began his own analysis.</p>
<p>“According to the inventory,” said Spock, “there is an anti-venom available for the venom of the leporiform’s in their original state. He kept a supply in the lab.”</p>
<p>McCoy retrieved this from the refrigeration unit and scanned it. Relief coursed through him. “With this, and the scans I’ve got of the giant version of the varmints, I can synthesize a new anti-venom right away.”</p>
<p>Jim liked to joke that McCoy was an ‘old-fashioned boy,’ but if there was one thing McCoy was grateful for it was the speed of modern medical equipment. With the correct data input in the computer, spitting out an upgraded antidote took the better part of ten minutes.</p>
<p>Spock, meanwhile, continued his investigations of Woundwort’s notes and logs. “It appears that Woundwort developed a virus designed to adjust the hormones of the leporiforms to reduce their breeding capacity in the wild.”</p>
<p>“They weren’t considered an aggressive species before,” said McCoy. “Not unless they were cornered and frightened. Even their venom only caused a rash in most humanoids. Whatever he did to their hormones must be causing increased aggression.”</p>
<p>“Indeed. But that does not explain—”</p>
<p>McCoy had been keeping an eye on the finished anti-venom as it dripped into a waiting hypospray vial, so he only heard the crash and Spock’s strangled shout. He turned in time to see a large, furry creature with long ears hurled across the room by Spock’s Vulcan strength. He fired a phaser shot without pausing to draw breath, shattering the beakers shelved along the opposite wall. The monster hunched over, cowering, using its arms to shield its face from broken glass—</p>
<p>
  <em>Its arms—</em>
</p>
<p>It dived for an opening that McCoy <em>knew</em> hadn’t been there before, galloping away from them on <em>two </em>legs, and the wall slammed shut behind it.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Are you hurt?” he called out, voice sounding too loud to his own ears. “It didn’t bite you, did it?” He couldn’t see any green blood, and Spock looked typically unruffled apart form a torn sleeve.</p>
<p>“I am uninjured. I believe the creature’s target was my tricorder.”</p>
<p>“That wasn’t— What the hell was that thing?” McCoy shook himself as his brain caught up with his eyes. “Do you think the virus has mutated? That didn’t look like the others.”</p>
<p>“Indeed. I do have a hypothesis,” said Spock. Having recovered himself more quickly that McCoy, he was already examining the wall, no doubt searching for a hidden mechanism to open it.</p>
<p>“Care to share it with me?”</p>
<p>“Not until I have more data to develop it further.”</p>
<p>“Now look here, you insufferable, green-blooded—”</p>
<p>The computer chimed, signaling that the completion of the anti-venom synthesis cycle.</p>
<p>“You should return to the Captain.”</p>
<p>“You’re coming too,” said McCoy, firmly. “We’ll figure out the trapdoor once Jim is cured. And there’s no way he’d want you going down their alone.”</p>
<p>Either Spock agreed with him (not that he’d admit it) or he just needed to see for himself that Jim was gonna be alright before he went off to endanger himself. The hallway was still blood-soaked and deserted, and the door to the basement showed no signs of being forced opened. Jim was still sleeping fitfully, his breathing shallow, cold sweat dripping from his hairline. He made a pitiful keening sound when McCoy pressed the hypospray to his arm.</p>
<p>“It should take effect in a few minutes.”</p>
<p>Sighing in relief wasn’t a very Vulcan thing to do, but McCoy was sure that if he hadn’t been there to witness it, Spock would have done it.</p>
<p>“Perhaps we can find him something to wear in place of that shirt.”</p>
<p>McCoy couldn’t help chuckling as he surveyed the damage. “I don’t know how he always manages to do that. I think he does it on purpose. Thinks it makes him look dashing.”</p>
<p>“Humans find damaged clothing aesthetically appealing?”</p>
<p>McCoy snorted. “I’m not sure that ‘aesthetic’ is right word for the kind of appeal we’re talking about.”</p>
<p>“Ah. So this is an example of what you would refer to as ‘sex appeal’.”</p>
<p>“Bingo.”</p>
<p>“A concept humans seem excessively preoccupied with.”</p>
<p>“Not all humans think about sex all the time. Sure, some people are obsessed by it, but some don’t think about it at all. It takes all types to make a world. In human society, anyway. I suppose Vulcans only believe in having sex for strictly reproductive purposes.”</p>
<p>“There is a difference,” said Spock, in that slow, deliberate way that meant he was choosing his words with great care, “between doing something at an appropriate or logical time, and constantly talking or thinking about it.”</p>
<p>McCoy looked delighted. “So recreational sex is logical after all. Who would’ve ever thought it.”</p>
<p>“Whether any action can be considered logical is dictated by circumstance. The logic of that particular activity is a point of philosophical debate,” said Spock, even more stiffly.</p>
<p>“And which side of the debate do you fall on, Mr. Spock?”</p>
<p>“Why are you so interested in my opinion on this matter, Dr. McCoy?”</p>
<p>“What are you trying to imply?”</p>
<p>“I have implied nothing. You are taking undue interest in that which does not concern you.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I’m just looking out for Jim’s future happiness.”</p>
<p>He’d meant it to be a sarcastic quip, but one look at the sudden absence of expression on Spock’s face and he knew he’d gone too far.</p>
<p>“I am not certain I understand the implications of that statement, Doctor.”</p>
<p>McCoy wondered, not for the first time, how this always happened to them. That what had started with a few amusing jibes about Jim’s penchant for losing his shirt had spun into dangerous water so quickly.</p>
<p>“I’m implying that he’s the one you’re crazy about, not me.”</p>
<p>“If it is a question of which one of you is having a more adverse effect on my sanity, then I assure you, Doctor, it is not Jim. However, I do not believe that is what you are insinuating.”</p>
<p>“I think you know exactly what I’m insinuating. But if you want to pretend otherwise for the sake of your Vulcan dignity, then by all means, don’t let me stop you.”</p>
<p>“And for what sake do you pretend that your feelings are other than what they are?”</p>
<p>“What the hell do you mean by that?”</p>
<p>“Now who is feigning ignorance, Doctor? I merely find it strange that someone who regularly expounds on the value of expressing emotion would be so vigilant about concealing something which it is clear he feels.”</p>
<p>“It wouldn’t do anybody a lick of good, Mr. Spock. And anyway, I sure wouldn’t want to stand in the way of that great romance you and Jim are always in danger of falling into.” McCoy said it sarcastically, but Spock could hear a trace of bitterness there too, and he was certain he didn’t like it. “Once he gets over whatever damn fool idea he’s got into his head about the two of us, I mean.”</p>
<p>“It is an unfortunate delusion.”</p>
<p>“Jim’s practically got us handcuffed to each other these past few weeks!” said McCoy. “I’m worried about him, Spock. You know how he gets when he’s in one of his moods. I wonder if he’s not trying to shove us together so he can wallow in the loneliness of being married to a starship.”</p>
<p>“Or perhaps he finds the idea appealing for… other reasons.”</p>
<p>McCoy snorted. “I can’t believe you just said that. This has got to be the stupidest love triangle I have ever been a part of. We’re all adults, we oughta just—”</p>
<p>Spock had thought that McCoy was going to suggest that they should initiate a mature and serious discussion with Jim about these issues. But McCoy’s sudden flush and abrupt silence implied something else entirely. And as illogical as it was, Spock found himself wishing that McCoy hadn’t stopped himself from saying what he meant to.</p>
<p>The silence was growing tenser by the second.</p>
<p>“What do you think we should do, Doctor?” he said, his voice low.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, Spock, but I think we’re in a whole heap of trouble whatever we do,” said McCoy. “Look, I think we’re both clear on how we feel about Jim.”</p>
<p>Spock said nothing.</p>
<p>“The question is… well...”</p>
<p>They both knew very well what the question was, but neither of them seemed capable of articulating it, let alone answering it.</p>
<p>Finally, Spock said, “I have occasionally exaggerated my disdain for your opinions.”</p>
<p>“I’m touched, Mr. Spock.”</p>
<p>“That would explain a great deal.”</p>
<p>McCoy scowled. “You’re better at human idiom than you let on.”</p>
<p>Spock, typically, raised an eyebrow. “Thank you, Dr. McCoy.”</p>
<p>There was another pause. McCoy signed a little, then said, “Sometimes I argue with you just for the sake of arguing with you, and I have occasionally taken my frustrations out on you when you didn’t deserve it. And…” He cleared his throat. “And, I like the shape of your ears.”</p>
<p>Spock was no longer meeting his eyes. “I find your instinct for compassion to be an admirable quality.”</p>
<p>“I… Thank you, Spock.”</p>
<p>He reached out a hand and cupped Spock’s cheek with it, and Spock’s gaze once again fell upon McCoy’s face, which had grown solemn. “I once accused you of having a death wish,” he said. “Maybe I was out of line, I don’t know. But I do know that sometimes you scare the hell out of me. You and Jim. Every time the two of you beam down to a strange planet alone I’m terrified that one of you won’t come back alive. And Spock, I don’t know if I can stand to lose either one of you.”</p>
<p>Spock hesitantly covered McCoy’s outstretched hand with one of his own. “Yet your own behavior indicates that you view yourself as expendable. I assure you, this is not the case.”</p>
<p>“That’s different.” He pulled his hand away.</p>
<p>“How?”</p>
<p>McCoy smiled, a little sheepishly. “Well, when you put it like that, it does seem like we’ve all got the same problem. We’ve all got something we’re willing to die for. Maybe we all need something to live for too.”</p>
<p>“Indeed.”</p>
<p>“Do you really think this could work?”</p>
<p>“I do not know.” Spock held out a hand with two fingers extended. “But I believe it is worth the attempt.”</p>
<p>McCoy met Spock’s fingers with his own.</p>
<p>A low, rasping chuckle drifted up from below. In an instant, both of them had dropped to their knees beside their prone captain.</p>
<p>“Knew I was right,” said Kirk. His half-lidded eyes drifted from one to the other, still unfocused, and the words were more than a little slurred.</p>
<p>“About what, Jim?” said McCoy, who had retrieved his tricorder and was now performing a very thorough scan.</p>
<p>“’bout you two.”</p>
<p>“How much of that did you hear?”</p>
<p>“’s not what I hear, ‘s what I see.”</p>
<p>“You’re too delirious to see straight, Jim.”</p>
<p>“’m not.” He shook himself, and then said, a little more coherently, “I happen to have a very talented doctor.”</p>
<p>“Flattery will get you nowhere. Stop trying to sit up, it’ll just make you dizzy.”</p>
<p>“Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Spock, but two Vulcans touching their fingers together that way is the equivalent of a human kiss, is it not?”</p>
<p>“It is similar.”</p>
<p>“So you two have finally worked it out, then?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I think that for the first time in three years, Mr. Spock and I have finally come to an understanding.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m happy for you. Just do me a favor, and don’t kill each other. I still need both of you.”</p>
<p>“That is the other aspect of our ‘understanding’ which we would like to discuss,” said Spock.</p>
<p>“You’ve gotten awfully interested in getting the two of us together, lately. And don’t try to deny it.”</p>
<p>“We have reason to believe that your interest is… prurient.”</p>
<p>“I think you’re getting some kind of vicarious thrill out of the idea.”</p>
<p>“Gentlemen,” said Kirk, a note of warning in his voice.</p>
<p>“It’s not just that you <em>need </em>both of us. You <em>want </em>both of us, too. And since you’re getting so hot and bothered by the idea of seeing us together, we think that you should join us.”</p>
<p>“This really isn’t funny, Bones.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s not. Do I look amused? Spock sure as hell isn’t amused.”</p>
<p>“We understand if you would prefer more time to consider the offer.”</p>
<p>Kirk pushed himself up into a sitting position, ignoring his own headache and the doctorly scowl he got from Bones, and looked from one to the other. “You really are serious about this.”</p>
<p>“As a heart attack. C’mon, Jim, you don’t think this is actually going to work without you, do you? Me and him? We really will end up killing each other.”</p>
<p>“Spock… Bones…” He exhaled slowly, and considered them both. “I can’t. You know I can’t. I’m the captain. Whatever I might… <em>want</em>, my responsibility to the Enterprise takes precedence.”</p>
<p>McCoy sighed. “I just knew you were going to come out with some damn fool thing like that.”</p>
<p>“Nevertheless, that was not an expression of disinterest.”</p>
<p>"No, Spock, it sure didn’t sound like one. In fact, it sounds to me like he’s very interested in our proposition, whatever he says against it.”</p>
<p>“You are members of my crew. There are lines, Bones…”</p>
<p>McCoy threw up his hands in exasperation. “Your whole career has been a study in crossing-lines, Jim.”</p>
<p>“There is no specific regulation forbidding this,” put in Spock.</p>
<p>“No <em>specific</em> regulation,” repeated Jim, drawing the words out. “I can’t <em>imagine</em> why Starfleet never had the foresight to envision a scenario in which a captain might end up in bed with <em>both</em> his first officer and his CMO.”</p>
<p>“The admiralty’s not known for its imagination.”</p>
<p>“Rule or no rule: that doesn’t make it any less inappropriate.”</p>
<p>“By inappropriate, you mean that you believe it would compromise our ability to make objective command decisions?”</p>
<p>“Something like that.”</p>
<p>“Then Captain, I believe that you are too late to prevent that eventuality.”</p>
<p>“How d’you figure?” said McCoy.</p>
<p>“This relationship can already be considered inappropriate. We have each demonstrated a tendency to compromise rules for the sake of one another.”</p>
<p>“So you see, Jim,” said McCoy, “You’re going to have to have both of us transferred off the ship, if you really want to maintain proper decorum.”</p>
<p>"You two were both sane, sensible men when I met you.”</p>
<p>“What does that say about your influence, Jim?”</p>
<p>“I can see Bones coming up with something like this, but I’m a little surprised that you’re going along with it, Spock. I think humans have tried just about everything in every possible combination, but I didn’t think Vulcan’s went in for polyamory.”</p>
<p>“I think some of them have tried a few more combinations than others,” suggested McCoy, pointedly.</p>
<p>“I believe the good doctor is trying to impugn my virtue.”</p>
<p>“Jim, your virtue impugns itself. You’re just lucky I don’t tell tales.”</p>
<p>“Maybe not, but you are getting us sidetracked. Spock? Surely Vulcans don’t approve of less traditional relationships?”</p>
<p>“Vulcans are typically monogamous,” said Spock. “However… given certain inescapable aspects of Vulcan biology, and the sometimes unpredictable nature of careers reliant on space travel, it is sometimes considered prudent to form practical arrangements with more than one partner.”</p>
<p>“In other words,” translated Bones, “He comes from a species with a mate or die clause, and in this dangerous career of ours, having more than one mate reduces the chances of dying. It’s perfectly logical. He’s going to have to find someone, sooner or later. Might as well be us.”</p>
<p>“Very romantic.”</p>
<p>“That is not my only reason. I also have no desire to return to Vulcan and allow my father to make a selection on my behalf.”</p>
<p>Kirk winced. “No, I can see why you wouldn’t.”</p>
<p>“Jim, you don’t have to give us an answer right away. Take some time to think about it.”</p>
<p>McCoy exchanged a glance with Spock, and Kirk could practically hear the conversation they were having with just their eyebrows. Regroup. Formulate a new strategy. He probably didn’t stand a chance.</p>
<p>Especially when he so desperately wanted to say yes.</p>
<p>"We'll have to be very discreet.”</p>
<p>McCoy rolled his eyes. “Well, there go my plans to serenade you on the bridge while Spock plays the Vulcan lute.”</p>
<p>“It is neither the doctor nor myself who has a reputation for indiscretion, Jim.”</p>
<p>“With friends like these…” Jim smiled at them. It was the sort of smile that had divested many lovely young ladies – and a few handsome gentlemen – of their clothing. “Of course you’re free to insult one another if that’s your idea of foreplay, but personally, <em>I</em> prefer to be seduced the old-fashioned way.”</p>
<p>“Well now, I think that can be arranged.”</p>
<p>McCoy leaned forward and kissed him. In spite of his bravado it was a soft, rather tentative kiss – almost chaste. And for all that it was the first one, it felt… familiar. Spock took his hand, and stroked his fingers. Sometimes when Spock touched him, he had a vague sense of being analyzed, assessed for injury, psychic or otherwise. Now, a feeling of reassurance crept through him, and that too felt familiar. Then McCoy’s hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, and Kirk decided to let his tongue get in on the action, and suddenly things were starting to feel a good deal less chaste. Spock hadn’t released his hand, and the sensation emanating from that point of contact was no less intoxicating.</p>
<p>McCoy pulled away and looked at Spock. They were both a little flushed, one pink, one green. “Could you feel that? Even without a mindmeld?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Spock. McCoy’s blue eyes were gleaming, a little mischievously.</p>
<p>“I think that trick’s going to come in handy. What do you think, Jim?”</p>
<p>“I think Spock is standing too far away.”</p>
<p>Jim had sometimes thought that trying to kiss Spock would be like trying to kiss a statue. But although Spock’s lips were a few degrees cooler than a humans, they were soft and pliant against his. He also hadn’t released Kirk’s hand.</p>
<p>When they broke away, McCoy was smiling at them.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Kirk, giving them a significant look.</p>
<p>McCoy chuckled. “Looks like we were right, Spock. He has been thinking about this a lot.”</p>
<p>“Indeed, doctor.”</p>
<p>“More than I ought to,” he admitted. “C’mon, you two. I’m an injured man.”</p>
<p>Spock reached out a hand, and McCoy took it, and let Spock pull him gently closer, so that they were both leaning over him, giving him a great view. Kirk realized that they were both, in their own way, more nervous about this than he was. Though they were doing their best not to show it. His own heart felt light, watching them – McCoy’s fingers caressing Spock’s face while Spock fondled his other hand in a way that was probably considered indecent on Vulcan. When they finally broke apart, they both joined him on the makeshift bed, one on either side, kissing his neck and his face and sliding their hands up his shirt. He felt a good deal less dizzy now, more focused, and increasingly… invigorated.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” McCoy murmured against his neck.</p>
<p>Kirk thought that was a bit rich coming from someone with such wandering hands. He pulled away from Spock, who he had been kissing in both the Vulcan and human style, to reassure him. “I feel fine, Bones. You’ve worked wonders, as usual.”</p>
<p>“You should be pleased that his potions do not have an adverse effect on <em>your</em> stomach.”</p>
<p>“And <em>you </em>should be pleased that I ever manage to cure you at all, when your hybrid anatomy makes things ten times more difficult than they should be.”</p>
<p>Kirk wondered how long they were going to keep this up; if anyone could have sex and an argument at the same time, it was Spock and Bones.</p>
<p>“I don’t think you have any objections to his anatomy at the moment, Bones.”</p>
<p>“You just hush, now. Or I’ll put you on bedrest when we get back to the ship.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Kirk stretched, and looked around the room properly for the first time. “But I think that will have to wait. Right now, you two owe me a status report.”</p>
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